


LJ's Party

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: Striptease II [7]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Drunk Sex, Incest, M/M, Multi, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orgy time: LJ/Lincoln/Michael/Abruzzi/T-Bag. Yeah. Oh, and Sucre/Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting a babysitter

“I've got a little announcement to make.”

_Announcement? Wait – oooh, I see. This should be good._ LJ had to stop himself from grinning. What with the look on T-Bag's face, and the slight smirk on Abruzzi's, there was only one thing this could be about.

“I'm going to do some shopping. We need tequila. And when I get back, all prudes and minors better be gone.”

Lincoln, choking on his water, turned brick red in a manner of seconds. Michael smiled knowingly at Abruzzi and T-Bag before turning to murmur something in Sucre's ear. The Puerto Rican smacked Michael on the arm – angrily rather than playfully – and glared at the world in general.

C-Note threw the mobster a dirty look before getting to his feet. “Thanks for the warning, eye-tie,” he snapped, going straight for his tent. “Sucre, just to let you know, I'm sleeping somewhere else tonight.”

“Hey!” Lincoln said, glancing embarrassedly at LJ. “Kid, remember?”

LJ laughed, and Lincoln looked even more like someone had just discovered he liked playing with Barbie dolls.

LJ smirked. Oh this should be so good.

*

“Hey Sucre,” Lincoln said quietly, approaching him almost timidly.

“Is this when you try to convince me to stay? I already told Michael no,” Sucre said heatedly, blushing.

“I wasn't asking you to,” Lincoln said quickly. “Er, you're not staying, then?”

Sucre sighed. “You, me and Michael had fun once, but that's it. I'm not joining in your fucking -”

“Ass rodeos,” Lincoln agreed, feeling more and more like a sick pervert. “Anyway, I was wondering. If you're not staying anyway, could you... can I ask you to keep LJ away? I don't care how you do it; take him fishing or go swimming or tie him to a tree and play Indian and Cowboy. Just don't let him come near camp.”

The image of LJ ´coming` near camp immediately suffused his mind, but Lincoln firmly pushed it down and looked Sucre square in the eye. “Please.”

Sucre swore loudly. “Sink, you know if it wasn't for everything that's happened, I'd beat your ass into the ground. I'll take care of it.”

“Thanks, man,” Lincoln said, feeling relieved and some... regret?

_*Fuck no, you pervert! You and LJ might have crossed a line, but that does_ not _mean you'll let him be scarred for life in this ordeal*._

_¤You're still going to join in yourself, though. Kinky bastard.¤_

_*Shut up! I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself.*_

_¤Could take real good care of LJ too, if you just woke up and smelled the pheromones.¤_

Lincoln decided to stop thinking when he realized he not only had a second inner voice, but that it was sounding increasingly like T-Bag.


	2. What the hell is worm juice?

“You know where LJ is?”

Lincoln smirked and closed in on his brother. “Gone for the evening. Sucre's taking him fishing.”

“Really.” Michael arched a sarcastic eyebrow at him and licked his lips pensively. “Then why is he currently being eye-raped by T-Bag just over there?”

Cursing, Lincoln turned in the direction Michael had nodded, and saw that LJ was indeed sitting there talking to T-Bag, who's heated gaze was the one usually reserved for Michael back in Fox River.

“What the hell are you doing here, LJ? I thought I told you to -” Lincoln began, but was interrupted by his smirking son.

“To go fishing with Sucre? Honestly, dad – when all the fun is going on here?”

Lincoln stood rooted to the spot for a few moments, his voice locked in his throat. Finally, he managed to force the words out. “LJ, come here. We need to talk.”

LJ shrugged, got up, and followed his father a few yards away from the other men. Michael took LJ's place next to T-Bag.

“You're not staying,” Lincoln said firmly, staring at his son.

“Dad,” LJ said, “You seem to be forgetting something. I've already had some kind of sex with everyone here! It's not like I'll be doing anything I haven't done already.”

Lincoln turned beet red. “LJ, I realize that, but I can't let you put yourself through this. It's... it's not something you can just forget.”

LJ smiled deviously at his father. “And why would I want to forget it? From what I hear, it's not a half bad experience.”

“T-Bag!” Lincoln roared.

“He just answered a few questions, dad,” LJ laughed, stepping closer to his father. “Besides, I want to. I really want to. And you'll be there, and Michael. I want a part of this, too.”

Lincoln groaned in defeat. Since when had his son been able to outsmart him like this? All things considered, the only argument he could come up with was, “I'm your father and I say you're not allowed” and that was hardly convincing.

“Dad,” LJ breathed, suddenly so much closer than Lincoln had had time to register, “I love you. Why won't you let me show you how much? You seemed to like it last time.”

Lincoln was blushing again, from embarrassment and from the arousal of that memory. And then slim arms were snaking slowly around his waist, and he knew he couldn't refuse the boy anything.

LJ tilted his head up invitingly, their lips met in a chaste kiss, and then Lincoln felt LJ's tongue caressing his closed lips. He was kissing him, in broad daylight, for all the world to see. Lincoln groaned softly into the kiss and pulled the boy to him.

Lincoln broke the kiss first, stroking his fingertips down LJ's cheek. Green eyes, full of mirth and lust, were trained on his own. A small smile of victory was tugging on the youth's lips. He looked so incredibly kissable.

“Just promise me... You'll be in control, LJ. If you say stop, we'll stop. No one is going to push you into anything,” Lincoln said, his voice gruff.

“I'm not afraid,” LJ smirked, turning slowly before moving to rejoin Michael and T-Bag. Both of whom had obviously been staring at the spectacle playing out between the two Burrows', and were now smiling ever so slightly at Lincoln.

Well. Michael was smiling. T-Bag was licking his lips obviously and all but grinning like a lion having caught a fine deer calf. Lincoln paled. _Abruzzi had better hurry back with those bottles, or I'll never get drunk enough to survive the night!_

*

“Uh, boys, 's much as I _hate_ interruptin' your lil' gatherin' here, the man with the worm juice 's here,” T-Bag drawled, sauntering over to Abruzzi to relieve him of a bottle before he even had the chance to put the bag down.

LJ didn't seem in the least bit interested to break off their ´little gathering`; with Michael and Lincoln taking turns kissing him, stroking his shoulders and arms, he didn't even particularly feel the need to get something for his thirst. But then Lincoln was suddenly gone, securing a bottle for himself, and Michael was laughing. “You're disgusting, T-Bag. _Worm juice_?”

“It ain't my idea,” the murderer defended. “But it ain't real tequila 'less there's an earth worm floatin' in it.”

LJ wrinkled his nose in disgust. “That's just gross. Who would drink that?”

“I did, once or twice,” T-Bag grinned. “But don'cha worry, boi; I brushed my teeth since then.”

“Mood wrecker,” Michael pointed out, accepting the bottle Abruzzi was handing him.

“You should hear him after sex,” Abruzzi said, lifting his own bottle to his lips.

“I believe the Pretty has had the pleasure,” the Alabamian smirked, raising his bottle in toast to Michael.

“This shit tastes foul,” Lincoln remarked, taking a swig from his bottle.

LJ gave Abruzzi a disappointed look. “No bottle for me?”

The mobster scoffed. “You're sixteen, kid. You probably can't handle it. Here, try some.” He held out a hand, offering his bottle.

“No,” Lincoln interrupted. “He may be joining us but I won't let you get him drunk.”

LJ rolled his eyes, but didn't take the bottle from Abruzzi's hand.

“You got us a quarter of a gallon _each_?” Michael suddenly said, looking at his bottle. “John, we've got a budget to stick to!”

“Didn't hear you complaining last time you bought booze,” was the smug reply. “Besides, the stuff is insultingly cheap in this place.”

Lincoln had just taken a sip of tequila when LJ sidled up to him, suddenly pulling his head down for a kiss. Surprised, Lincoln opened his mouth at LJ's suggestive tongue, feeling the boy's mouth dragging every ounce of lust up from his body. One of his hands tangled in LJ's hair and he pushed closer as he felt the other's tongue teasingly sweep against his palate.

“You startin' the show without us, Sink?” T-Bag said, already unbuttoning his shirt.

Lincoln broke away, struggling to control his breathing, and looked at LJ. The youth was again smiling at him, and Lincoln had the feeling he should be worried about something, but between the feel of LJ against him and the alcohol starting to creep into his system, he just couldn't find out what he was supposed to be worried about.

“We should catch up to him, then,” Abruzzi said, taking another swig before stepping over to T-Bag. The Alabamian grinned up at the taller man, then craned his head back and readily accepted the strong mouth covering his own. Within seconds, tongues were teasing and thrusting, and Lincoln had to admit the pair looked hot as hell like that.

“Time to lose a few pieces,” T-Bag said, pressing closer to Abruzzi and yanking at the mobster's shirt with his teeth. Very little tequila was spilled as the pair roughly got rid of Abruzzi's shirt, both men's belts and trousers. By the time they were down to boxer shorts, the two men were drinking out of each other's mouths more than their bottles. T-Bag kept licking stray drops from Abruzzi's chin.

“Pretty, you wanna help us demonstrate some, uh, group activities for the kid?” T-Bag smirked, breaking away from Abruzzi's mouth to wink at LJ. The boy almost blushed before he remembered why they were there. Why he was there.

Michael's smile was so incredibly far from affectionate or calming as he slowly pulled his tee-shirt over his head. “I never thought I would enjoy being the fifth wheel,” he said, shedding his sandals and belt, “but I do.”

“That implies we're a couple, Fish,” Abruzzi snarled, fisting the hair at the base of T-Bag's skull to pull his head back for another kiss. “We're not.”

Michael rolled his eyes and stripped the rest of his clothing. “John, all you lack are matching rings.”

Abruzzi's angry growl had T-Bag sucking on his bottom lip in anticipation. “Now, don't start, boys,” he drawled, “or you're not gettin' any tonight.”

Michael laughed, advancing slowly on the pair as T-Bag slowly dropped the boxer shorts as well. Abruzzi grumbled something unintelligible and accepted T-Bag's kiss once more, a possessive arm around the smaller man's waist. When Michael came up close behind him and stroke exploring hands down his back, John Abruzzi gave up on the idea of anger and welcomed every sensation.

“Come here,” Lincoln breathed in LJ's ear as he watched the three men in front of him slowly sink to the ground. “Watch.”

LJ's mouth was dry as he watched his uncle and T-Bag pull Abruzzi's shorts off between them, all three men's erections proudly visible. He felt his father's warm body right behind him and pressed closer, noticing that Lincoln had also shed his shirt.

“On your knees, Fish,” Abruzzi growled, catching the lotion Michael threw him. LJ watched in fascination as Michael obeyed, his body arching prettily, while Abruzzi prepared them both hastily with lotion.

“Ya wouldn't be excludin' me, now, John?” T-Bag said, the lust in his voice never wavering.

“That depends,” Abruzzi replied as he got in position behind Michael, “on how good Fish is at using his mouth.”

“Oh, he's _very_ good, I assure you,” T-Bag smirked, getting to his knees in front of Michael. As the mobster started pushing into him, Michael bit his lower lip, hanging on to T-Bag's hips for support. A slow groan escaped him as Abruzzi stilled all the way inside, clutching his hips tightly.

“Down, boi,” T-Bag teased, putting a hand on the back of Michael's head as Abruzzi started thrusting slowly. Michael, still strangely obedient, lowered himself until he could place his tongue at the base of T-Bag's erection. He slowly moved outwards, licking it in the decidedly most perverse way LJ had ever imagined.

“Oh God,” Lincoln breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from the three men on the ground. Memories blended smoothly with the present. He could all but feel Michael around him; could almost see Sucre's face as the Puerto Rican climaxed in Michael's mouth.

T-Bag groaned, canting his head back. “I hear ya, Sink!”

“And here I though Teddy was the only bitch around camp,” Abruzzi panted, hips moving against Michael's as he thrust hard inside the younger man. “But Fish here certainly knows how to play it.”

Lincoln's growl resonated through LJ and he arched his back, pressing closer to the broad chest behind him. “Dad,” he rasped, throat dry. “Dad, touch me.”

Lincoln's smirk burned on LJ's skin as the older man pressed his lips to the tender skin of his neck. “They're too hot,” he whispered, arms coming around the boy from behind. “To see them like that, it's too much when you're not getting any... relief.”

LJ's breath came in short bursts. In front of him, Michael was making the most incredible faces, moaning around T-Bag and moving with Abruzzi's thrusts. The mobster was desperately clutching at the slim hips in front of him; nails raking over bruised skin. And T-Bag; T-Bag was breathing shallowly and fisting his hands in Michael's hair, head tipped back and mouth open in a constant expression of pleasure.

“Be patient,” Lincoln breathed in LJ's ear, letting his lips play with the earlobe. “You'll get yours soon enough.”

“Go easy on him, John!” T-Bag suddenly bit out, twitching as Michael moaned loudly and clamped his lips down around the hard flesh in his mouth.

“You mean he can't take it like you do, Theodore?” Abruzzi panted, sneering but still slowing his movements as T-Bag told him. Between them, Michael tilted his head to one side and clenched around Abruzzi. Both of the older men groaned in unison.

“Ya know I don't really give a fuck, John Boy,” T-Bag smirked, hand pulling roughly at Michael's hair. “But 's my cock he's got 'tween his teeth.”

Michael let go of T-Bag's hips, steadying himself with one hand on the ground and fastening the other around the base of T-Bag's erection. Tongue working furiously on T-Bag's cock, Michael purred loudly with relief as he came.

“Fuck, Pretty!” T-Bag's voice hitched; he was fucking Michael's mouth erratically and then he was making the most incredible sounds somewhere between whimpers and growls. LJ could see Michael's throat move as he swallowed around the older man; his movements languorous after his own climax.

Abruzzi's head fell back as he came inside Michael, his body stiffening. LJ could feel his father hard against his back and knew he was not the only one who found the three men's rut more arousing than anything he'd ever seen.

“Well, Pretty!” T-Bag panted as he sank to the ground, chest heaving. “Seems you're even better at this than I remembered.”

Abruzzi, pulling out of the younger man, stroke slowly down Michael's spine before lying down on his side in the grass, searching for his bottle. “Why, what did he do?”

“You usually moan my name, John Boi,” T-Bag laughed, “even when you're messin' with another man.”

Abruzzi rolled his eyes, throwing back another mouthful of tequila. Michael smirked at the pair, then crawled over to Lincoln for a slow kiss. Then he turned to address the murderer again. “Just you wait; I haven't even started yet. I believe I still owe you for trying to fuck me to death last time we did this.”

Lincoln blushed at LJ's obviously piqued interest, but his body ached to repeat some parts of that night. “Well, you better get started, then. There are three of us, and only one of you.”

Michael laughed. “Oh don't you worry. I think I might have an idea.”


	3. Time to teach LJ

“Oh come on, dad, please?”

Lincoln grumbled something unintelligible, sounding more like Abruzzi than he would like to admit. LJ was _giggling_.

“How the hell did you manage to get drunk, kid? I didn't get you any,” Abruzzi said, frowning. T-Bag was trying to kiss his neck, and the mobster was slapping the Alabamian away every other second.

“I know,” Michael said, knocking back another mouthful of liquor. “Lincoln doesn't have any manners when he's drinking.”

“Speak English, Fish.” Nip, slap. “Will you stop it, you fucking faggot!” Abruzzi said, no real fire in his words. T-Bag didn't stop.

“LJ's good at timing his kisses,” Michael grinned, winking at the boy in question. “Didn't you notice? He kissed Lincoln whenever he had his mouth full of tequila. Drank it right up. Clever.”

LJ giggled some more and pressed closer to his father. Lincoln was sitting in the grass, drinking deeply from his bottle, and LJ was kneeling behind him, arms draped over his shoulders and down his chest.

“Just once,” LJ begged, showering the older man's ear and neck with wet kisses. “Please, please, pleeease...”

“To stop that naggin' I'll do it myself,” T-Bag said slurrily, rolling to his feet and advancing on Lincoln. “C'mon, Sink, let's oblige the kid.”

Lincoln glared daggers at T-Bag, but LJ's breath was quickening against his ear, the warmth of the boy's now shirtless body tempting beyond reason. The murderer easily dropped to his knees in front of Lincoln, grinning.

“Fucking perverts, the both of you,” Lincoln growled. Then he grabbed the back of T-Bag's neck and yanked him close until their lips met, crushingly. T-Bag opened his and Lincoln thrust his tongue in, mercilessly demanding submission.

LJ scrambled to the side to see them better. Michael stirred as he saw Lincoln crush the smaller man to him; saw his brother's mouth force T-Bag to his back in the grass. The two men were pushing, grinding against each other; T-Bag moaned and then purred as Lincoln bit fiercely at the side of his neck.

Casting a glance over at Abruzzi, LJ noticed the older man was staring at the spectacle with a possessive hunger in his eyes. LJ licked his lips. To even think about what hunger like that made a man do...

Lincoln broke the kiss, lips red and swollen, jaw set. “Move,” he panted, pushing T-Bag away. T-Bag grinned and rolled away from under Lincoln, then sat up. Lincoln turned to Michael. “What do you say, Mike? You think we can teach LJ that he shouldn't be stealing a man's tequila?”

“I think he knows,” Michael smirked, “But let's just make sure the message got through.”

LJ's mouth was dry as Michael started advancing on him on hands and knees. Catlike and dead sexy. Lincoln followed him, both men endless stretches of naked skin and LJ could hardly stop himself from begging for them to take him right there. In the back of his mind, a little voice was screaming at him to keep his clothes on, for heaven's sake; Abruzzi and T-Bag were watching their every move!

That little voice was effectively shut down as Michael slowly started undoing his shorts. When Lincoln leaned in and kissed him deeply, it laid down to die.

“Do you want this, LJ?” Lincoln breathed in his ear, doing impossible thing with the skin just behind it. LJ could only whimper in reply, feeling Michael slowly relieve him of shorts and boxers.

“Tell me,” Lincoln demanded softly. “Tell me what you want. You can have anything you want, LJ; just tell me...”

“Fuck me,” LJ moaned. Michael's hands stilled, but Lincoln's attentions to his neck increased. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Turn around.” Lincoln's voice was husky, rumbling over LJ's ear and straight through him.  
As he followed his father's instructions, LJ saw T-Bag and Abruzzi were watching him; they were drinking, yet their eyes lever left him.

“Linc,” Michael purred, “Want some assistance?”

Lincoln's growl was nothing if not affirmative. LJ's breath was catching in his throat; the older man was gently pushing him forwards until he was on all fours on the ground. Then he felt the coolness of lotion on his skin, and he shivered.

“Harder,” LJ demanded as one finger slid slowly into him. Michael sucked in a hissing breath, then moved in front of LJ, dipping his head to kiss him. Behind him, Lincoln was stretching and toying with him; slowly opening him up. Michael's tongue tangled with his, perfect lips pressing against LJ's own. _Oh God, so good, so..._

“Oh!” A single whimper escaped LJ's throat as four fingers thrust into him. He wanted nothing more than to feel Lincoln thrusting hard inside him, but the older man seemed intent on playing with him.

“Now,” LJ panted, holding onto Michael's shoulders for support. “Fuck me, dad. I need you, please just...”

“God,” Lincoln groaned, “If you only knew what that does to me, LJ!”

And when Lincoln started pushing into him, LJ felt he had a pretty good idea of exactly how his father felt about the subject. So hot, so hard, so –

“More!” LJ gasped, pushing back against the older man.

Lincoln stilled his movements, then pulled LJ's hips with him as he slowly moved back, sitting back on his heels, LJ in his lap.

“Don't move yet,” Lincoln murmured in his ear, spreading his own legs to move LJ's legs a bit further apart. “You're going to love this.”

LJ wondered what he could possibly like more than the feeling of the older man hard inside him, and then Michael was in front of him again, closing in. Feeling Lincoln's broad chest pressed against his back, LJ saw Michael sink lower to the ground as he moved in between the boy's legs.

“Holy fuck!” LJ couldn't have kept silent if he wanted to when Michael's lips closed around him, sliding slowly downwards until the older man had taken him all the way down his throat. The heat and wetness of Michael's mouth was trying to compete with the feeling of Lincoln's cock inside him, and between the two of them, LJ could hardly breathe.

“You okay?” Lincoln asked huskily against his neck, thrusting slowly upwards. LJ cried out when the older man brushed against his prostate again and again, moving in and out of his body.

“Dad,” LJ gasped, “Uh... Mike! Oh holy fucking God; fuck me!”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Lincoln laughed, rolling his hips again. “I am going to fuck you, LJ. I love you and I'm going to make you scream for more.”

Michael started humming around him and LJ lost it; feeling Lincoln's fingers tease his nipples he writhed in his father's lap, coming down Michael's throat with a scream trapped in his own.

“Oh fuck,” Lincoln groaned. “So tight! So fucking tight; shit LJ, you feel incredible!”

“Dad,” LJ gasped, air rushing to his lungs as the last waves of his orgasm faded. “Uncle Mike, I...”

The two older men chuckled. “Trust me, I know,” Lincoln said, pressing closer to the boy. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah!” LJ said, one hand stroking Michael's cheek. Then he slid that hand up around his father's neck. “Finish it.”

“Mmm, love to,” Lincoln purred in his ear, resuming his slow rhythm. LJ moaned at the feelings spreading rapidly from the hard cock inside him. Lincoln's heavy breath against his ear, big hands splayed across his abdomen and over his thigh; it was all working him into a frenzy all over again and despite the drained feeling in his body, he was soon bucking with pleasure with each thrust.

“I'm gonna come,” Lincoln whispered in his ear. “And I want to hear you say it. Say it like you said it to me last time.”

It took a few moments for the words to penetrate the traces of LJ's orgasm, but when they did, he smiled innocently and looked straight at Abruzzi. “I want you to come inside me,” he moaned, arching and panting to put on a show. “I want to feel your come in me.”

The mobster groaned as loudly as Lincoln. Inside him, Lincoln was thrusting almost desperately. Michael, too, seemed affected; LJ could see his uncle's breathing was uneven and that his body was straining for more.

“LJ,” Lincoln groaned, thrusting shallowly a few more times, come pumping into the boy in his lap. LJ smiled in victory and licked his lips blatantly, trying to clench around his father. Judging from Lincoln's almost pained growl as the wet heat spread between them, it was pretty effective.

“God, you're so...” Lincoln stammered, then thinking better of it and turning LJ's head to kiss him instead.

“Cheap?” the boy smirked, basking in the delicious combination of Lincoln's body and the gazes from T-Bag and Abruzzi.

“Incredibly so,” Michael laughed softly in his ear, sucking gently on his ear lobe. “Seems like I've got a successor, wouldn't you say, gentlemen?”

“That I would, Pretty,” T-Bag said, his voice raspy. “An' if ya don't watch it, he might just surpass ya.”

“Why should he,” Abruzzi pointed out, voice strained, “when we can have them both?”

Michael met LJ's eyes and smirked. “What do you say, LJ? Are they going to be enough for us?”


	4. Some power trip

LJ decided the other men most definitely would be enough for him. If each of them would fuck him like Lincoln just had, he wouldn't be able to sit down for a month.

“I think the pretty boys have had their share of the fun for now,” Abruzzi said. “Theodore.”

T-Bag slowly turned to Abruzzi, taking care to throw a suggestive glance in Michael's direction.

Abruzzi moved in close. He put a hand around the Alabamian's neck. “I'm going to make you squirm and beg for it like a bitch,” he hissed in the smaller man's ear, “and Fish will be watching. The kid and Burrows will be watching. They'll see you moan my name and scream for more.”

T-Bag shuddered. The words of the taller man were sending wildfire through his body in waves. Pushing forwards, he licked up Abruzzi's neck until he could take his earlobe between his lips, sucking hard. “Do your worst,” he murmured, grinning against Abruzzi's skin.

The challenge in the murderer's voice was not lost to Abruzzi.

“What _is_ my worst, Theodore?” he whispered, aware that the others were watching them. “That thing I do that you really can't take without begging?” Still breathing heavily against T-Bag's ear, he slid his hand down around the other man until he could tease tight muscle.

T-Bag gasped for air when Abruzzi's fingers thrust into him two at a time. Thrusting, sliding, forcing moans of pleasure from him as they hit his prostate. He canted his head back and Abruzzi latched onto his neck, biting hard enough to form bruises.

“Oh fuck, John,” T-Bag ranted, and then Abruzzi stopped.

“I don't think that's it,” he smirked, withdrawing the hand that had T-Bag moaning for more. Then he reached down and closed his hand around T-Bag's erection, pulling slowly while coaxing him to lie down on his back. “Is it when I blow you and your cock is halfway down my throat?”

When Abruzzi's mouth closed around him, T-Bag couldn't breathe and his hands tangled instinctively in the mobster's hair, trying to pull him closer. _So close_ to the edge; his body arched off the ground and he was drowning in the blue-green eyes looking up at him.

“Or maybe,” Abruzzi suddenly said, releasing T-Bag from his mouth, “maybe it's not even when I fuck you.”

T-Bag gave a whining groan and strained for contact. Abruzzi crawled up until he could hiss softly in T-Bag's ear; so softly the others couldn't hear it.

“It's when I speak, isn't it. When I'm hissing in your ear like this. The one thing you really can't handle is when I talk to you. When I tell you how I'm going to fuck you hard. When you've got my fingers up your ass and I'm reminding you who's in charge. When you've got my cock in your mouth and I'm telling you what a good boy you are. When I tell you that you're my _bitch_.”

Calling out Abruzzi's name, T-Bag came hard.

“And I didn't even touch you when you came,” Abruzzi hissed, backing down until his face was level with T-Bag's groin. Slowly, with hot swipes of his tongue, he started removing all the traces of the now panting man's orgasm.

“Shit!” It was LJ's strangled whimper. The boy was about to come right there; just from watching.

“And since Teddy just got his, I think it's time for me to get mine,” Abruzzi said, smiling darkly at LJ. “You up for it, kid?”

“Hell yes!” LJ grinned, feeling randy and dirty and so incredibly turned on. He made to crawl over to Abruzzi. Lincoln made a sound of protest, but Michael turned to kiss his brother.

“He wants it,” Michael whispered. “John won't hurt him. Come here...” And with Michael's perfect lips coaxing his own apart, Lincoln found it hard to worry over anything at all.

“What a difference a week or two make,” Abruzzi smirked. “What is it, twelve days since I had you blushing and gasping in the water? I think you're turning into your uncle and Teddy combined.”

LJ sucked on his lip, then reached for Abruzzi's hand. Looking up at the older man through his lashes, he sucked the mobster's index finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. Sucking, tonguing it obscenely. Then he released the digit from his mouth and turned the hand over, nibbling playfully at Abruzzi's wrist.

“Enough,” Abruzzi said, moving in quickly to kiss the boy's collar bone hotly. LJ, tilting his head back, moaned prettily and enjoyed the feeling of the wet mouth trailing over his skin until it reached his ear.

“You'd make a good bitch,” Abruzzi rumbled. “Now let's demonstrate to your father just _how_ good.”

LJ didn't need the slight pressure on his shoulder guiding him to his knees. He knelt willingly, eagerly, looking up at Abruzzi and awaiting his command. When the older man put a hand on the back of LJ's head, the boy promptly fastened a hand around the base of Abruzzi's erection before starting to suck the head into his mouth.

Hot flesh was pushing into his mouth, and LJ sucked wantonly, tilting his head for easier access. Above him, Abruzzi was groaning with pleasure and tilting his head back. LJ clutched the man's hips for leverage and bobbed his head back and forth as fast as he could, wanting to taste the power he knew he had.

“Yes,” Abruzzi hissed, hand caressing the back of LJ's head.

LJ gently, very gently, raked his teeth along the older man's cock; a shudder ran through the solid body so close to his and the boy revelled in every drop of salty precome sliding over his tongue. With a final moan and slide of his tongue, LJ felt Abruzzi spill himself in his mouth, growling deeply.

LJ kept sucking, swallowing, until he felt the mobster withdraw from his mouth.

“Impressive, boi,” T-Bag drawled, sidling up to LJ before kissing him. LJ could feel the tongue Alabamian's tongue sweep through his mouth and he knew T-Bag wanted to taste that power, too. “But then, ya did learn from the best.”

LJ grinned. “I did. And I had a lot of target practice.”


	5. Splitting it up

LJ was having trouble breathing. He was having trouble speaking. He was having trouble thinking. In fact, it was a good thing he was lying down, or he would have collapsed onto the ground.

He was completely surrounded by the older men. Abruzzi, T-Bag, Lincoln and Michael were all around him, over him, next to him. All he could feel was the grass beneath his back and naked skin; sweaty, sex-smelling skin that slid against his own. Lips were kissing, hands were touching, every inch of his body.

He felt like he was about to explode from all the need and lust and _fire_ coursing through him.

“Please,” he whimpered, bucking his hips as a slender hand stroke lightly across his pelvis. “Just... Can...”

Letting his feverish gaze follow his right arm as it was pulled slowly outwards, LJ could only stare open-mouthed as Michael's perfect lips toyed with his fingertips, his knuckles, his wrist. The older man's tongue was flicking over his skin and the wet heat drove him just a little more crazy with each heartbeat. His middle finger was sucked into the wanton rosebud that was Michael's mouth, and he groaned with want.

Then he was snapped away from Michael's all-consuming mouth by the feeling of teeth nibbling lightly around his nipple. He could no more stop his other hand from trying to press T-Bag's head even closer, than he could stop his hips from bucking against the older man's when teeth and tongue viciously attacked the tender skin. Moaning and writhing on the ground, LJ surrendered without thought and let each speck of sensation wash over him.

“You must be even prettier than your uncle when you moan,” T-Bag hissed against his skin. “Have to wonder whatcha look like when you're on your back.”

“Fucking gorgeous,” Lincoln smirked, leaning in to kiss the boy teasingly on the lips. “Aren't you, LJ? Your face, your eyes when you're being... I want some more of it,” he finished, so softly LJ was sure none of the others had heard it.

“Yes,” LJ moaned, before opening his lips to welcome his father's strong tongue.

“Wait.” Abruzzi raised his head from where he was biting roughly along LJ's hip bones. “I think I can imagine a few arrangements that would make this more... beneficial to all of us.”

“An' you call _me_ a nymphomaniac, John? Half an hour or so; must be a record o' some sorts,” T-Bag sniggered, before dipping his head again to let his tongue play over LJ's navel. The boy squirmed.

“You'll be moaning someone's name soon enough, Teddy, so just shut up,” Abruzzi snarled, but his harsh words could not take the heated lust out of his eyes.

LJ could hardly figure out what was happening, who did what; somehow, under Abruzzi's wordless directions, they slid against each other and moved, repositioned themselves. Somehow, Lincoln, T-Bag and LJ came together in clashes of skin; LJ eagerly moved to nip and lick along the ridge of T-Bag's shoulder while Lincoln stroke appreciative hands down the boy's peachy skin.

Abruzzi made to pull Michael in front of him, but T-Bag suddenly tore loose from the enthusiastic attentions of LJ and crawled to the two other men.

“This round's mine, Pretty,” he drawled; he sounded so aloof but LJ saw the possessive jealousy flutter across his face. Michael must have seen it too; he placed a playful kiss near Abruzzi's collar bone before reaching for Lincoln's hand.

“I think we need to get a little social again,” Michael said hoarsely, smirking at LJ as he noticed the boy's almost desperate arousal. Lincoln growled affirmatively and pulled first Michael, then LJ, to him for passionate kisses.

 _Lincoln and LJ_  
LJ was gasping for air by the time Lincoln's tongue left his mouth. Then Michael moved closer to him and stole his breath again with another kiss, and Lincoln's hand was warm and guiding behind his head.

“Mike...”

Michael caught his brother's lips in a consenting kiss, flowing swiftly from LJ to Lincoln. “He's all yours, Lincoln.”

LJ was about to ask who, exactly, belonged to whom, but Lincoln explained pretty quickly by flipping him onto his back in the grass. “I told you I wanted some more,” he purred in LJ's ear, before his lips descended softly, warmly, _gently_ on the boy's neck.

“Da-aad,” LJ whined, pretending to pout. “I want to try some other position.”

“We can do that some other time,” Lincoln whispered, ghosting his lips over LJ's. “Let me show you how this gets better.”

LJ nipped playfully at Lincoln's lip, but the older man was not deterred. He spread LJ's legs, moved to position himself at the boy's entrance, and stopped.

“Do you want it, LJ? Do you want me to take you?”

“Fuck yes,” LJ moaned, smiling deviously up at his father. “Hard.”

Lincoln pushed forwards, LJ tilted his hips. Sliding together with a slow burn, the two loudly gave their bodies' consensus; LJ in a whimper, Lincoln with a deep groan. Lincoln stilled once completely inside the boy, looking down at the green, pleading eyes.

“You trust me, LJ?” Lincoln murmured, stroking a hand down LJ's cheek.

“In this position? What choice do I have?” LJ grinned, straining his neck to kiss the older man.

“Then relax,” Lincoln whispered. He gathered LJ's wrists above his head, held them down with one hand, then pushed slowly forwards.

LJ was wriggling beneath his father, pretending to strain against the strong hand holding his own down. “You going commando on me, dad?” he laughed, only slightly distracted by the feeling of Lincoln inside him.

“Stay,” Lincoln simply said, letting go of the boy's slim wrists. Then he reached down to hook LJ's knees over his arms, spreading him wider. LJ cried out in pleasure as Lincoln penetrated him deeper than ever; pushing hard against his prostate.

Incoherent babble flew from LJ's lips as Lincoln started thrusting hard, deep and slow. It was like each move, each slide of the cock inside him, lasted for eternity and a day; LJ bucked and begged for more, harder, faster but Lincoln never changed his pace.

“God, so beautiful,” Lincoln moaned, kissing his son's swollen lips. “Your face is so incredible, LJ, so fucking... pretty,” he gasped, feeling LJ twitch around him. “You okay?”

LJ shuddered. “I need... I think I'm gonna... Fuck, dad, fuck me!”

“Working on it,” Lincoln panted, trying to tear himself away from the intense look on LJ's face. Feeling the lithe body writhe beneath his own, he moved faster until LJ was screaming with passion. Intoxicated by the pleasure in his son's voice, he canted his head back and roared as he came, still pushing into the tight heat of LJ's body.

Feeling his father's warmth flood his body, LJ's voice died in a moan as he spent himself between their bodies, the moment mixing in his mind with the first time he and Lincoln had joined like this. “Dad...”

“LJ,” Lincoln gasped, barely keeping himself up on his elbows as he came crashing from his climax. “Oh God, LJ!”

But LJ was already snuggling closer to him ( _Is that even possible? Isn't he defying some laws of nature or something?_ ), his eyes drifting shut.

“I know,” he said, pulling Lincoln down to him.

Smiling indulgently, Lincoln pulled the boy to him and rearranged them so LJ was draped across his chest, their legs tangling. He could barely make out the vague murmur of T-Bag and Abruzzi though the other men were three yards away at most; they must have stopped ´partying` too. The thought of locating Michael appeared to him in a flash, but he knew his brother would join them if he wanted to.

Content for now to just hold the boy in his arms, he hugged LJ tighter and listened to his even breath. If he was not much mistaken, the boy had just had the party of a lifetime.

 _T-Bag and Abruzzi_  
“You're losing it, Theodore,” Abruzzi smirked, taking yet another swig of tequila. “Jealous of _the Fish_?”

“If I am not much mistaken, it's you who've been callin' me your _bitch_ since the night after the show,” T-Bag said, trying – and failing – to sound nonchalant.

“And if _I_ am not much mistaken, we've both been fucking around since that very night,” Abruzzi quipped, getting to his knees. “So maybe we need to restore the balance, hm?”

T-Bag crawled forwards until he was facing Abruzzi square off. “I've got ya pocket, John. I don't care if ya fuck aroun', but in the end, you'll be comin' back to my tent.”

“That would be _my_ tent, Teddy,” Abruzzi said, smugness flaring in his voice. “And you got bottom bunk.”

Before T-Bag had the time to answer him, Abruzzi pulled the shorter man to him and pressed their lips together. T-Bag gave a sound of surprise as Abruzzi's hands cupped both sides of his face, trapping him with a confusingly affectionate gesture. But the Alabamian's lips were already open, tongue searching Abruzzi's.

Abruzzi had to admit, as the kiss gained heat, that T-Bag could kiss. That tongue was good for more than just blow jobs; stroking the roof of Abruzzi's mouth, it told him exactly what T-Bag thought of their relationship.

“So I guess that means you _are_ my bitch,” Abruzzi rasped, feeling T-Bag's panting breath on his neck. T-Bag couldn't contain a groan at the mobster's words, and the sound turned into a whimper as Abruzzi shoved him hastily to the ground.

“And I guess I don't need more than one bitch,” Abruzzi hissed, flipping T-Bag over so he was on his stomach. “Spread 'em.”

T-Bag eagerly complied, tilting his hips and biting his bottom lip in anticipation.

“So this is what became of the Double Kay lord of Fox River,” Abruzzi smirked, pushing quickly inside the writhing man beneath him. “A simple bitch, jealous of a couple of kids.”

And T-Bag had to clench his jaw not to tell Abruzzi that he was perfectly happy with the change; instead, he tensed up around the man hard inside him and bucked back, drawing a soft moan from the taller man.

“Shut up an' fuck me,” T-Bag grinned, feeling the taller man starting to move.

As their movements quickened, as their rut grew in intensity and heat and need, T-Bag eagerly voiced his appreciation of the feeling of John Abruzzi hard inside him. Each move, every inch of John's cock filling him, pulsed the same hiss through his body. _His. All his._

“Fuck, John boi,” T-Bag moaned, clutching fistfuls of grass. “Harder, c'mon, fuh-uck!”

Breathless with pain-edged pleasure, T-Bag barely noticed Abruzzi's body shivering against his own. “Theodore,” the mobster grunted, “you have a foul mouth.” _Mine_.

Abruzzi delivered a hard bite to T-Bag's shoulder, then growled against the broken skin. T-Bag screamed and bucked, pressing his hips up into the other man's. “More,” he begged, hardly able to get the words out. “John -”

When Abruzzi's broad tongue swiped hotly against the shallow wound on his shoulder, T-Bag's breath sobbed in his throat and he came hard, whimpering. His whole body twitched; he froze up and for an endless second, Abruzzi was pressed close to every inch of his body.

“Want me to talk dirty like the kid, John?” T-Bag panted, coming down slowly. “So you get all hot an' bothered like Sink. Want me to say how I want your spunk in me; oh John, I wanna feel ya come in my ass?”

“No,” Abruzzi gasped, lifting himself up to give said ass a good slap. “I don't want the kid. I'm fucking you, Theodore.”

“An' a... fine job... ya doin' of it, too,” T-Bag laughed, knowing Abruzzi was keeping a short leash on himself to talk and fuck at the same time. “But I do... John. I... want ya to... fuck me until... ya come.” His voice and breath alike came in short bursts, timed with Abruzzi's thrusts. “Because I _am_ your bitch, John.”

Growling appreciatively, Abruzzi spent himself inside the willing body in the grass.

“You're too kind, John,” T-Bag panted as Abruzzi drew slowly out of him, steadying himself with a hand on the shorter man's hip. “Gettin' all gentle on me?”

“Do I need to gag you, Teddy?” Abruzzi replied pleasantly. He would never say so but both men knew he liked how T-Bag always talked after.

T-Bag waited for Abruzzi to move off him, but the taller man didn't. He settled down comfortably across T-Bag's back, his cheek resting on the shorter man's shoulder.

“Now who's getting' cuddly,” T-Bag snorted, finding it a heavy task to draw breath with six foot three naked mobster draped on top of him. He loved it.

T-Bag flinched when he felt Abruzzi's lips press softly to his skin just above the bite mark. Of all the touches, fucks, kisses and everything else he and Abruzzi had done, this was the first caress and it spread rapidly through his body in a wave of warmth.

His bitch. Abruzzi's bitch. T-Bag smirked to himself. The kid and the Pretty could look as good as they wanted to, and suck cock like a million bucks. Abruzzi only needed one bitch anyway.


	6. Who would say no to free porn?

“You know, you'd be welcome to join us at any time.”

“Coño!”

Sucre gave a start. He hadn't heard Michael sneaking up on him, and he quickly turned around from the sight of the four men in front of their tents to blushingly face the fifth. “You know I'm not gay.”

Michael smirked at him. “Oh, I see. That certainly explains why you were watching, then. And why your shorts -”

Sucre stepped hastily closer to Michael, shutting him up with a menacing finger pointed at his face. “I am not gay,” he insisted, feeling mortified at Michael's almost-comment about his erection. “I just...”

“I don't think you're gay, Fernando,” Michael said, and Sucre felt his shorts tighten even more at the sound of his given name sliding from Michael's lips. “But you're not getting any, and even you can't deny that seeing them... us... like that, is hot.”

Sucre looked away, well aware that Michael was only wearing a pair of shorts and that those were hardly in better condition than Sucre's own. “Well, who'd say no to free porn?” he muttered.

Michael laughed, a slightly drunken sound, but sultry and low. Like he knew exactly what was going through Sucre's mind. “You're right, who would?”

And then Michael stepped closer yet to the other man, smiling playfully at him. Sucre knew a look of panic must have crossed his face, because Michael reached out to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Fernando. It's just more free porn.”

Slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, Michael pulled his former cell mate to him and pressed his lips to the bronzed skin of Sucre's neck. Sucre made a small sound of protest; a sound that was quickly stifled as Michael moved up to gently take the darker man's earlobe between his teeth.

“Come on, Fernando,” Michael purred, pressing their bodies closer together. “Just relax, give in, and enjoy it.”

Fernando Sucre was not a weak man. Had his fiancé been in the same country as him, or had he not already felt exactly how good Michael was at his game, or had he even gotten laid within the last two months – he would simply have punched Michael in the face and left.

But Maricruz was somewhere else, quite possibly married to his cousin. He had not gotten laid since their last conjugal (what was it now? Four months ago?), and he remembered perfectly well just how silky Michael's plump lips felt around him, and the incredible look on his face as he came with Sucre's cock in his mouth and Lincoln's ditto in his ass. What was a man to do?

“Just stay,” Michael purred, pushing Sucre slowly against a tree. “Stay, and I'll take care of it. It's just a mouth, Fernando.”

Sucre groaned, trying to close his mind to the way his name was dripping with honey and heated lust and sex when Michael said it. The man should be censored; there had to be some law prohibiting... verbal abuse like that!

His shorts were gone. _Michael's_ shorts were gone. There were just two very naked men, one of them leaning against a tree, the other on his knees in the grass. Sucre drew a hissing breath when Michael's hands started stroking up his thighs.

“Michael,” he bit out, “why are you naked?”

“Porn,” Michael laughed, letting his lips trail after his hands across the sensitive skin of Sucre's lower belly. “Besides, giving head is a major turn-on for me. The shorts were getting tight.”

Full rosebud lips fastened around the side of Sucre's erection, moving from the base outwards. Accompanied by the symphony of moans, profanities and gasps from the Puerto Rican, Michael angled his head and closed his lips over the tip of the cock in his mouth.

Looking down at the pale man on his knees, Sucre could see his flesh being swallowed down by a willing, hot mouth. He banged his head on the tree trunk tearing his eyes away from the sight, cursing loudly and thrusting forwards into the heat and wetness surrounding him.

“Shit, Michael,” he moaned, hand wrapping around Michael's head. “Just... shit.”

Michael purred appreciatively, vibrations tickling every inch of Sucre. The Puerto Rican couldn't hold back as those vibrations hit the very tip of his erection; for the fourth time in his life, he came in another man's mouth. In Michael's mouth.

“Papi, oh fuck, don't stop!”

Michael moaned wantonly and hollowed his cheeks, milking every last pulse of Sucre's orgasm. Sucre could feel him swallowing twice before being released from that hell-hole of a mouth.

Michael swirled his tongue around his mouth, collecting every last drop. Fernando Sucre could protest all he wanted; Michael still enjoyed getting him off in very not-straight ways. And he loved the sight, the sound and the _taste_ of Sucre coming. _Maricruz sure has taste in men._

“Mmm,” purred Michael, smirking at his cellie. “And who'd say no to free... _that_?”

Sucre was no longer blushing. In fact, he was looking at Michael with a new expression of determination on his face; one Michael had never seen in him before.

“Then turnabout is fair play, right?”

Michael blinked. Was Sucre implying what he thought Sucre was implying?

“Lie down,” Sucre suddenly said, and Michael had never had less of a choice in his life. “Don't move. And keep your hands to yourself – I think I'll hate it if you push my head.”

Dumbstruck, Michael laid back, leaning on his elbows. That steely glint of determination was still there, and now something else was flashing in Sucre's eyes, too. Mirth? Intrigue?

“If you like giving it so much, you won't mind getting it,” Sucre said, no trace of a question. His grin, like his eyes, was something quite new to Michael.

“Fernando!” Michael could do nothing but cry out as Sucre, all niceties and preliminaries aside, fastened a calloused hand around Michael's cock and placed his lips at the tip. Hand and mouth started working in uneven and unskilled sync, moving edgily over the hard flesh.

Michael was panting and close to laughter. He clutched the grass beside him to keep from caressing Fernando's cheek, and did his level best not to laugh at the man who – not half an hour ago – had aggressively stated that he wasn't gay.

_Oh holy shit fuck what the..._

“God, Fernando! Yesohgodyesyes -”

So clumsy, so inexperienced, so unsure of himself and so searingly hot. Michael couldn't help it; he bucked and moaned shamelessly as his friend's mouth worked disorganized wonders on his burning erection. Hands slammed down hard on his hips, keeping him steady with masculine roughness.

Michael came with a loud moan, surging down Sucre's throat as the darker man demonstratively swallowed. _Oh fuck oh fuck god yes oh fuck..._

Sucre, a slight frown of confusion on his face, backed away from Michael's shivering body, sitting up. “Didn't taste as bad,” he said. It was almost a question.

“As bad as what?” Michael said, not really caring. _Damn!_

Sucre was about to answer when Michael suddenly sat up, looking for all the world like the Cheshire Cat. “Who else did you suck off?” he asked, voice strained with laughter.

Sucre suddenly blushed again. “Fuck you, papi. He'd kill me if I said.”

Michael fell back to the ground, laughing until his sides ached. “C-Note!” he gasped between bouts of laughter. “C-Note and Fernando Sucre, the very antitheses of sodomy!”

Sucre couldn't help but grin slightly, although he felt mortified. “Sodomy? If he'd heard you compare him to T-Bag, he would have ripped your guts out.”

Michael smirked at the other man. Even in his liquor induced state, this evening seemed somehow surreal. “But you're still going to beat me up if I question your sexuality?”

“I'm smashing your brains in if you even think about it.”

“You have the strangest definitions of ´gay` and ´straight` I've ever met, you know that?”

“Shut up bitch.”

But considering he could still taste Michael's come, Sucre figured he didn't really have the edge any more.


End file.
